The twelve days of Christmas
by Little-Firestar84
Summary: Only Castle could get the 12 days of Christmas wrong, but then again, it wasn't like he could keep it quie when wooing a woman. So, who was her secret Santa, then? A belated Christmas fic.


******Title: the 12 days of Christmas********  
**

******Summary: She guessed that only Castle could get the 12 days of Christmas wrong. But it wasn't like he was able of keep it quiet when wooing a woman. So, who was her secert Santa? **

******Author :**Little_firestar84**  
****Rating:** t**  
****Characters:** Beckett, Castle**  
****  
****Disclaimer:** Nope. No way. I'm not affiliated with them. And I don't own them.

* * *

The gifts started arriving two weeks before Christmas - twelve days, to be more accurate. Every morning, as she made her way to leave her apartment and go to the precinct, she would find something at her doorstep, something new and different every day.

~.~

The first time, it was something very small, and yet simple: a composition of flowers, dried and in tissue, white and bright green poinsettia inside a crystal vase. She wondered who had sent it, as she looked for a note, something, _anything, _just to come out almost empty handed: there was, indeed, a small note, but it was one of those small cards that florists kept, already pre-written. And there was just a single sentence, _Happy Christmas, and _her name had-written, in nice, elegant Italic. She tried to remember if she had seen already such a calligraphy, but she just shook her head. Probably the sale-person had written it.

Her first thought was that it could be Castle, but, grinning, she shook once again her head. That was not his style, definitely. Castle was either small (coffee) or huge and exaggerated (dresses, fancy restaurants, a coffee maker) gifts. There was no middle way with him, and those flowers, as beautiful and classy as they were, middle way they were.

(Besides, he liked to let people know when he did something like that, and why the secrecy, now that they were into a relationship, albeit semi-secret?)

She skimmed tentatively over the petals of the flowers, concentrating on something she didn't exactly know. Those flowers, they remembered her of something, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

She decided to let it go. Maybe it was someone she had helped and was now trying to show how grateful they were, still remaining in the shadows. It wasn't the first time it happened, even if they had never sent anything at her place, but she guessed there was a first time for everything.

And if it was a secret admirer? Even better. She would have used it to tease Castle and drive him mad with jealousy... after all, didn't he do the same to her almost on a daily basis?

~.~

The second day she wasn't expecting anything, and yet she found yet another gift waiting for her: this time, it was a small, real, Christmas three in miniature, something that she could put on her desk on the job, or on any table at home. Maybe even her nightstand, now that she thought of it.

It was simply adorable, in its simplicity, with its small silver and blue ribbons, and the balls in the same colors, and the golden wings on top instead of the angel.

Yet again, she thought it remembered her of just...something, but still, she didn't know what.

There was no note this time, and for a sec she wondered if she was supposed to let Gates know what was going on- as far as she knew, it could be a stalker- but decided against it, for now. A stalker would have been way more creepy, after all..

~.~

Came the third day, she wondered if it was the case of changing her mind.

Yet another gift, still no note, no clue about the identity of the admirer. And she didn't know what to do- or to think- any longer.

Yes, it was flattering that the guy was thinking about her-taking care of her in such a particular, and yet strange, way- but there was something...odd? Disturbing? She didn't need help redecorating her place. She didn't need to redecorate her place, point. Not for Christmas, anyway.

And besides, what kind of person wasted money on a Christmas themed table-cloth? (saved, of course, Castle). She hated the thing anyway.

Her mother had loved those sort of things. She always had the house covered with them.

Maybe it was why... it was the reason she...

She didn't feel like crying. She was just mad. With the admirer, with God, even her mother, and the senator, and... and... and...

She opened the door, and threw the piece of fabric somewhere-in the dark, she didn't know where it landed. Nor she cared. Or at least, that was what she told herself.

Yet, when she returned back home that evening, she took it, and inspired its scent, like it was her mother's, like she could return in a happy place, in the past, just like that.

And she did it while crying. Because the past couldn't return.

~.~

She kept receiving gifts.

Every morning, she would walk out of her apartment, and she would find something new, something usually Christmas themed, or at least, winter related- matching napkins for the cloth, a snowball with a small village in the north pole, completed with a cherry red and golden sleight, like from a tale, a collection of DVD of Christmas movies, a chocolate teddy bear, a bright red set of scarf and gloves, two crystal candelabra, shaped as stars, with red scented candles, a real (she wondered if she was going to keep it alive until new year) orchid, white and violet and dark blue... all small things, all innocent things. All without a note attached, if not computer-written, or printed, and even then, she had seen something like that only in a couple of occasions..

She wondered if this secret Santa was her father. It was the kind of things he would have bought her, had they celebrated Christmas, but in her family, Christmas had died a long time ago, that cold January when her mother had died, and they had closed the decorations in boxes that were no more-had been no more since that fateful day.

Maybe...maybe he was trying to make up for lost occasions, for a youth she had never fully lived. Those were her dreams, after all, or at least... they had been, at a certain point. She wasn't that adult when her mother had passed away, and in the following years, there had been times when she had been angry, mad, even jealous, that her friends got to celebrate Christmas, while she had to stay on her own while her father drunk himself away inside an old cabin in the woods.

One year, she had even made a diary, an album of sort. Nothing fancy, it had been just an old notepad, rigid, like a book, quite old fashioned. She had filled it with her desires, with images, pictures, drawings... things that weren't, had never been, couldn't be any longer. Not back then, at least.

She smiled, bitter-sweetly. It had been a lifetime since she had last thought about that diary.

She went to her room, and started looking everywhere for an item that had been so precious a long time before. She even went to the basement, looked in her small storage space, in the boxes she hadn't opened yet since she had moved in. But there was no trace of it.

She wondered if... that was why. Maybe she had never had it with herself. Maybe she had left it back home when she left for college. Maybe her father had found it, and he had seen her wishes. Maybe he wanted to make it all better...

The only thing was, she knew for sure that he wasn't at home any longer. He was already in his small, isolated cabin in the middle of the woods, thinking and reflecting and not getting drunk- that, had been his most marvelous gift, of ever.

But maybe... someone was delivering them.

Yes, it had to be that way. It was the only explanation.

~.~

On the 23rd, every notion that the secret Santa could be her father flew away as she blushed and preyed with all her might that her nosy neighbor, Mrs. Smith, hadn't see what was inside the box.

As much as she had wished to be a breath-taking femme fatale in her youth, she doubted that her father could buy...that...that thing for her. Especially now. Especially since he knew who she would parade in that thing for.

Bright red, silk and lace lingerie.

Italian Lingerie. La Perla.

Hundreds of dollars of lingerie.

That was something that Castle would buy for her, but...but...

But he hadn't say a thing when she had suggested the existence of a secret admirer. And he wasn't the kind of man to keep it quiet. It wasn't his style. When he wooed a woman...well, he wooed her all right, there was nothing subtle about it.

Not with her, at least...never, ever with her.

But maybe...

She looked around, trying to see if there was someone...anyone...around. She wondered if she should ask Gates for advice. After all, buying sexy lingerie-especially if not involved- was a bit creepy.

But what if...what if she was involved with the guy? What if... what if it was Castle?

Yes, they had said no gifts, but Castle was Castle... and even if he had answered to her odd questions and it didn't look like he was her secret admirer... he was good at manipulating, at hiding. And he was keeping their story a secret, right?

(Well, sort of. Martha and Alexis knew.)

So maybe... he was Santa.

She smiled of a little smile at the idea.

She would have loved to see that happening.

Actually... she could only hope it was him.

It had to be him.

~.~

On Christmas eve, she found a package in front of her door.

It wasn't too big, but, through the maroon paper, she could feel its softness. Fabric? She wondered, biting her lips.

She opened the gift, feeling both thrilled with anticipation and guilt. She felt a bit like when she was a teenager, during what Castle had referred to as her "wild phase"... it wasn't like she didn't love Castle, because she did, but this mystery man... there was just something about him... if it wasn't Castle, which, she wasn't sure yet...

He cared about her. And he knew her. He was so perfect that maybe she was just imagining him. Maybe it was just a dream, or some kind of twisted joke. Who knew.

And yet, still...

Well, she was considering the idea that it was Castle. Just a little.

She gasped as she finally discovered her gift, a chachemire sweater, soft, of a light pink. It was a classic model, the kind of thing that had never made fashion, and yet was still in fashion, no matter what. It was the kind of thing that every woman had in her wardrobe.

Even her mother.

She had loved her mother's pink sweater, had wished for it to belong to her, had asked her mum to wear it at Christmas the last year together, only to be denied because her mother always wore that on Christmas day, it was her little tradition.

And that one... she fingered the surface, realizing that it was just like that one.

She got lost in its texture and its scent, and when she tried to put it on, something escaped.

An hand-written note... something her secret admirer had never done.

Or maybe... maybe Castle was right. Maybe she did need a bit of magic in her life. And maybe that was it, her personal secret Santa.

_You are cordially invited to wear this tomorrow. I'll be at your place at sunrise-as you are an early bird- because it's time for you to build new traditions. _

Santa

She giggled like a little girl, as she recognized the handwriting.

Maybe the perfect man did exist, after all.

And maybe, just maybe, he had been right before her eyes the whole time.

~.~

The next morning, when he was ready to knock at her door, his fists already lifted up in the air, she opened for him, dressed casually with her brand new sweater and jeans, her hair down just like he liked them- and how she rarely had them due to duty hours.

Castle smiled of a lazy, satisfied smile, that disappeared when he saw her shocked expression. He gulped down a mouthful of saliva, and was ready to retreat and lick his wounds in private when, laughing, she took him for his Santa-like jacket and forced him inside, making their lips collide in a hot, sweet, kiss in the process.

"Admit it. For a second, I had you worried" she grinned, satisfied. Having such a power over him was always... thrilling and satisfying. Castle wasn't a man who was hard to please, but he tended to be a know it all-even if his theories tended to be a bit on the edge of craziness at times- but mostly, with his work on characters, he had the habit of being right in his studies of the human psyche, hers and human in general.

"I have to admit that my feelings may have clouded my judgment..." he admitted, still with that lazy smile of his. That smile...it turned her knees into jelly. Sometimes, she wondered if that wasn't the reason she had fallen for him in the first place, so many years before. "You are happy it's me, right?"

She nodded, but biting her lips, her arms still around his neck. "How did you know about my past Christmases?" she asked, her eyes suddenly on her sweater.

"As much as I would love to tell you that the laser beam mutated me and turned me into Professor X, I fear that the answer is much more simpler." he paused, like to add emphasis. "I found a photo book when I was helping you moving here, few years ago. And I kept it. It was all written there."

The book. The pictures. All the gifts had made her remember of happier times, of her happy childhood. And she hadn't been able to find it. And not because it was still at her father's.

She hit him hard on one shoulder, and pouting, she crossed her arms, stern. "Ouch, woman, that was painful!"

"I think you should be glad I didn't use something else instead of my bare fist..."

He eyed her, with intent. She didn't know if he had misread her, or if he was just being an idiot. "Oh, detective...you know I'm always in when it's about the handcuffs... even if I have to admit that I rather prefer strip-poker. It's always a win-win situation, don't you agree?"

She couldn't help it. She laughed. And laughed. And then laughed some more.

And then, she collapsed in his arms, her giggles muffled by his jacket. "You are such an idiot sometimes, Castle... you even got the 12 days of Christmas wrong. I mean, who doesn't know that they are actually AFTER Christmas?"

"Mother didn't send me to Sunday school. nor she had time to teach me such a thing. that, presuming she knows it in the first place..."

She laughed again. "you still are an idiot."  
"so you tell me, detective, so you tell me detective..." he lifted her chin with a single finger, and left a sweet, slow but too quick kiss on her wanting lips. "Happy Christmas detective. Do you want to see your gift?"

She lifted her knee to level with his groin, and looked at him with clear menace. She hoped he didn't think anything sexual. As much as she wanted him... as much as she loved him... she definitely wasn't in the mood for make-up sex because her boyfriend had stolen her pictures.

He almost told her, c'mon, check in my pocket, but then he thought against it; with his luck, she would have read it as an innuendo.

So, he showed her.

He gave her a small package, and she opened it, although she had a vague idea of what it could be-or at least, where it was from. The robin eggshell blue was a unique shade, used by only one shop in town...

And thanks lord it wasn't an engagement ring (she so wasn't ready for a proposal, not on Christmas day, at least. she didn't like clichés) but a silver key-ring, with her zodiac symbol and a single diamond in the center.

And the keys of his place.

"I know you spend the night already, but... I want you to be able to come and go as you like. I want you to feel at home with me, but also without me. Especially now, that mother and Alexis are no longer living under my same roof..."

"Castle, I..." she was going to say something, she didn't know what, but he stopped her, a finger on her lips.

"I know you need time to decide whatever move in with me or not. It's ok. I waited 4 years to kiss you, to love you... I can wait a little bit longer. But I wanted you to get...comfortable with the idea. not that my place is yours, but that...wherever we are, that's our place. The village, here, the district...If you'll decide you don't like it, we'll try something else, but...can you at least try it?"

she read the plea in his eyes, and she knew. she had made him suffer so much... this was the least she could so.

So, she nodded, and kissed Santa, showing him how much she appreciated his gifts. all of them.

His love, his patience and his acceptance, included.


End file.
